What Love Is
by LillyOfTheField
Summary: "She didn't know why they were laughing, all she knew was that she didn't want to stop." Lily and James attempt to study together, with little success.


Lily Evans and James Potter were _not _a public couple, much to James's chagrin.

His problem wasn't even the fact that he was seventeen years old and he had a gorgeous girlfriend and snogging was pretty much his favorite activity besides being with her.

The problem was that Lily Evans was just amazing. All the time. And sometimes he'd just look at her and ache because he _knew_ she wouldn't feel comfortable if he snogged her senseless in the common room, or at breakfast, or in the library or even while on the semi-private rounds. But he still wanted to, because she was just so effortlessly _Lily_.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks, a smile playing at her lips. She was often smiling these days. James likes that about her, that even while they were at a war she was able to smile. He likes that he helps her smile.

"You," he responds honestly, as always. They're under a tree right by the lake doing homework, and it's probably just private enough for her not to mind _too _much. But still, he doesn't do anything more than put his arm around her and bring her close.

This is love, he thinks: wanting something, but wanting her to be happier more than anything else.

She's embarrassed, he knows. She's awkward, he knows. She's brilliant and perfect and flawed, he knows. He knows everything about her, but the best part is how little he does know, how much he learns daily. Like how she absentmindedly sticks her pinkie out slightly when holding a glass, but only with her left hand. Or how she sticks her quill behind her ear when she's thinking, and sometimes there's still ink on the quill and it drips onto her neck and she won't even notice.

"Good things, I hope?" She asks, teasingly, relaxing into his grip. He ducks his head down and buries his face in her hair. She's warm, even though it's chilly. "You know, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I brought you here to do homework."

"Oh really?" He laughs lightly. "This is exactly what I was thinking when I said yes." She laughs, which makes him laugh even harder and they're just in a never ending loop of giggles and chuckles and smiles and chaste kisses.

Sometimes James feels like he has to be not only James Potter, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Marauder, Boyfriend but JAMES POTTER the hero of young children everywhere. JAMES POTTER who brought Gryffindor to victory every year of his captainship. JAMES POTTER the brilliant Marauder who thinks up clever pranks with his friends to make everyone laugh. And some people will even look at him as though he should be JAMES POTTER, Perfect Boyfriend, caring and sensitive and sweet and clever and anything a girl could ever want.

But not with Lily. Never with Lily. With her he wasn't JAMES POTTER, he was simply James and she was simply Lily and they just _fit_ in a way no one else did.

That's what love is, he thinks. Not having to be JAMES POTTER or LILY EVANS. Just James and Lily. LJ, the lines touching, the two letters becoming one.

However, Lily Evans didn't was decidedly not in love with James Potter.

She liked him an awful lot, she reasoned. She liked the way his hair fell in his bright hazel eyes. She liked the way she could be comfortable around him, and vice versa. She liked _being_ with him, and she felt it, a dull ache whenever they weren't together. A sense of missing something important.

But she didn't love him. They'd only been dating for a few months, after all. She _couldn't_ love him. It wasn't allowed.

She didn't know why they were laughing, all she knew was that she didn't want to stop. It happened sometimes—James would tell a joke, or she would, or something mildly amusing would happen. Then they'd just _look_ at each other, and fall over dying of laughter, clutching at their sides. Whenever they threatened to sober up, they would just look at the other person and start up again.

That is love, she thought as she attempted to compose herself, carefully looking away from James as she regulated her breathing, short giggles still escaping. Love is knowing someone so well a single look sets you both off. Not that she loved James, of course.

"You are perfect, Lily Evans." He says when they finally finish. He grabs her hands and holds it in his. He does this sometimes, bluntly gives her a compliment out of the blue. You can say whatever you want about James, but he never stops making her feel loved and special.

"Likewise, James Potter," she says with a smile, but he's serious all of a sudden.

"Don't forget that, all right? Never think for a second that you are anything less than brilliant."

"Oi, don't say that too much," Lily warns. "You're going to give me a big head, and then where would we be? Back where we started, roles reversed."

"Nah, I'd never be that cruel to you," James says, snapping out of it, a smile back on his face. "_I_, for example, would probably only turn you down a couple hundred times."

"Oh really? And then what?"

"I'd pity snog you. And then realize that you're actually quite hot and I don't really need a personality in a girlfriend anyway."

"Thanks James," Lily retorts sarcastically. "That's the making of true love."

She says it and instantly regrets it, because even though it was an off-hand comment it suddenly holds weight. He squeezes her hands slightly, still holding them, and she squeezes back.

That's what love is, she thinks—although, of course, they're not in love. They don't have to say anything, not yet. They have all the time in the world to come to grips with whatever it is they feel. With a simple touch she just _knows _and it becomes okay.

"Speaking of snogging," James says in a low voice, breaking the tension. "You are looking particularly fetching today."

"And you look like you're stressed. So we should probably finish this homework so that you'll have some time to relax before you go to Quidditch practice."

"You know what _really_ would help me relax…" And they're off again, laughing as though they don't have a care in the world. It doesn't matter whether they're in love or not, or whether their relationship will survive to the end of the week. All that matters is now: his hair in all directions, her eyes sparkling with mirth, their homework forgotten and abandoned.

**A/N This was one of my Jily Secret Santa attempts that I think I eventually discarded unfinished because it wasn't fluffy enough. **


End file.
